Return
by Leila Secret-Smith
Summary: When the Dragonborn returned to Nirn, it was not as the expectant panoply of dragons was waiting for. The fight with the World-Eater left behind a half-dead Dovahkiin, and wounds were rarely felt in Sovngarde. "Odahviing!" Paarthurnax abruptly snapped "Get the Dovahkiin to the joore!" (Just a little oneshot)


When the Dragonborn returned to Nirn, it was not as the expectant panoply of dragons were waiting for. Instead of a lightshow, the heavens bursting open, and a shout of triumph, there was a soft puff, a loud crunching of snow, and then...nothing. When the lingering lights of Tsun's shout faded, they saw the tiny Dragonborn standing upright in the violent winds, swaying unstadily. Her Arch-mage robes were torn, burned, and bloody. Her hair was askew under her hood, her circlet scratched and discolored. Blood streamed down her body in a mixture of dried russet and fresh crimson.

She managed to look up at Parthurnaax and drop her beat-up bearskin pack before promptly collapsing into the knee-deep snow, staining the pristine white with red.

The dragons stared in stunned silence.

"Odahving!" Parthurnaax abruptly snapped "Get the Dovahkiin to the joore!"

The red and blue dovah reacted immediately, springing into the air and deftly flying across the small space to hover over the prone form, gently scooping her up in one massive clawed foot. In a flurry of hard flaps he was off, flying as quickly as he could down to High Hrothgar. Parthurnaax, in the meanwhile, snaked his tail over to her pack, brushing it over to rest against the word wall, where it would be safe until she could retrieve it later.

The Greybeards were just as surprised as the dragons had been to find the Dovahkiin laid, bloody, in their courtyard. Arngeir rushed out into the snowstorm with Borri at his side, and together they carried her into the cold stone fortress. Odahving promptly flew back up to the Throat of the World.

"Dragonborn, can you hear me?" Arngeir asked in a clipped tone as he helped carry her to a bed where she could be treated. She only groaned quietly, her eyes rolling restlessly under their lids.

He sighed.

A few hours, a few potions, and a whole lot of bloody bandages later, the Dovahkiin was stable and resting. She was not, as Arngeir could well tell, out of danger, but at least she wasn't actively bleeding out. He regarded her silently as she slept on his bed, her heavily bandaged chest rising and falling softly with the rhythm of her breath.

"So you have done it, young Alea." He commented quietly, speaking more to himself than to her. "Quite an accomplishment for one of only nineteen winters. I can only image what else you will write upon the narrative of time before your days are through. Perhaps you can find more happiness than any such lofty destiny has afforded you thus far." The Master of the Voice sighed to himself. "May Kynareth guide you."

"Odahving." The Dragonborn greeted her new friend in a strained voice, clearly struggling to keep herself upright and conscious as she stood in the snowy courtyard of High Hrothgar. "I need you to take me to Winterhold. I-I don't think I can make it on my own." She wheezed quietly, the frigid air burning her damaged lungs. _Definitely feeling Alduin's last tail-strike right there, mhm._ She thought to herself. "I need Colette's restoration magics."

"I will carry you, thuri." Odahving rumbled, dipping his head. "I trust you are strong enough to hold on?"

Alea nodded. "I am."

"Then we shall go." The dragon lowered himself to the ground, pressing his neck into the snow. She staggered over and gingerly mounted his neck, settling in and pulling her multiple layers of furs tight around her body.

"Thank you, my friend."

Odahving dropped Alea off in Winterhold quickly and silently in the middle of the night, leaving her on the roof of the Hall of Attainment.

"Drem, Thuri." He said by way of farewell, taking off before anyone could notice his presence.

The Dovahkiin, long since robbed of her ability to speak above a whisper due to her injuries and the journey, simply nodded. As he flew off she made her slow, limping way out of the cold and into the Hall. The stairs were the worst part: each step was agony to her half-healed body. Somehow, she made it, stumbling into the first room she could.

"Enthir." She whispered, her voice rough and strained. The Bosmer, a light sleeper, started awake immediately.

"uh, wha-?" He pushed himself upright, one hand coming up to rub his face as he squinted at the figure silhouetted against the blue light of the magic-well. "Arch-mage? Is that you?"

Alea managed one quiet "Help." before her knees gave and she slumped against the side of his bed.

"What? Oh, Divines, SOMEONE GET COLETTE!" He was out of bed quickly after that, clad only in his sleeping robes, and rushed around to help his Arch-mage. "S**t, stay with me Spellweaver! MIRABELLE! THE ARCH-MAGE IS HURT!" Her skin was a strange combination of temperatures against his own skin, clammy in the extremities and feverish on her head and torso. "You aren't allowed to die on my floor, Arch-mage!" He said in a panic.

Mirabelle came running in first, hair and robes all askew, but the wood elf could hear the beginnings of chaos below as the other apprentices woke up.

"Arch-mage?" The master wizard all but screeched, dashing over to the pair. "Alea, what's wrong? Can you hear me, Spellweaver?"

The Dragonborn nodded slightly, curling around herself as violent coughs shook her body. "Fought the... World-Eater... y'know, nothing... big..." She said, then proceeded to pass out, blood dripping from her mouth.

"Enthir, help me move her to my room! I think she's bleeding internally!"

Together, the two wizards carried their Arch-mage to Mirabelle's room, gently settling her limp body onto the sheets.

"Go get Colette, then more help." Mirabelle ordered just as Onmund rushed in. Enthir obeyed immediately, pulling on a pair of boots before dashing off to the Hall of Conuntenance.

"Alea! What's wrong?" The Arch-Mage's husband was absolutely panicked as he beheld his wife's state. He dropped to his knees beside the limp form, gently taking her small, battered hand in his own. "Alea... " He practically whimpered. "Oh, I knew I should have gone with you!"

"Calm, Onmund." Mirabelle said sternly, performing what little restoration magic she knew. "Alea is strong. If she killed the World-Eater, she can make it through this."

Onmund, upon realizing just how wise the advice actually was, nodded and took a deep breath, holding the cold air in his lungs for a few seconds before exhaling slowly. He settled more comfortably on his heels, his other hand going to join the first wrapped around his wife's ice-cold fingers.

"I'm sorry, Ally." He whispered, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. "I wish I knew more restoration."

"ARCH-MAGE!" Colette screeched suddenly, slipping over the stone floor and barely retaining her balance as she ran into the room, a jumbled mix of potions bottles, scrolls, and ingredients in her arms. The normally tactless mage abruptly turned grave and professional as she laid eyes on Alea's battered, shivering form. "Onmund, Mirabelle, move." She commanded sternly, laying her supplies on the chair near the bed.

The two younger mages moved away, watching with some surprise as she selected a strong healing potion and gently lifted the Arch-mage's head as she laid the bottle neck to the injured girl's lips. Slowly, she managed to coax the life-saving liquid into Alea; a faint gold glow shone dimly from some of the deeper wounds, evidence of the potion's effectiveness. A second, smaller potion was also ingested.

As Colette paused to grind some ingredients into a paste, Onmund looked back over his shoulder to realize that almost every college student and teacher was standing in the doorway or waiting along the hall. They gazed silently and worriedly as the Restoration scholar rushed to save their beloved leader.

"Please don't die, Alea..." Brelyna whispered, tears in her red eyes.

Even J'zargo was unusually solemn, not a hint of arrogance on his feline face. "The Arch-mage, she is strong." He declared. "This one knows she will not fall so easily."

Onmund turned away, his heart swelling with pride to see the whole college behind Alea, one hundred percent. If she were awake, he knew she would blush crimson at the attention and give them that big dopey grin.

She would smile for her family.

Alea was actually quite surprised to find her body pain-free when she awoke. She was doubly surprised to feel her husband's warm, strong arms around her, her head resting over his bare chest. For a long moment, she lay still, content to listen to her love's heart beat bold and strong in his chest. Then she remembered the frigid, painful journey on Ohdaving's back, then staggering into Enthir's room. Then... nothing. She supposed Enthir had fetched Colette, and somehow she had ended up back in her quarters with her husband. Come to think of it, he had probably carried her there.

Slowly, the nineteen-year-old pushed up off the bed, gently breaking Onmund's hold on her. He, of course, awoke immediately, a disoriented haze over his sleepy eyes. Alea giggled and jutted her chin forward, kissing the tip of his nose. _So cute!_ She thought.

"Alea? Alea!" The haze quickly cleared, a look of immense relief replacing it. In a flash, he was also sitting up and hugging her tightly, his chin on top of her head. "I thought I was going to lose you." He whispered, his grip tightening.

Alea's smile wavered a little bit, then faded altogether. _I thought I was going to lose you._ Unexpectedly, tears welled in her eyes. _He's right,_ she realized. She had almost been lost. The thought caused her throat to swell up, and a warm tear slid down her cheek. She hadn't thought about it while she had fought Alduin. Maybe because she had been fighting for the world, for her husband and sister and friends. She had never considered that she had been fighting to her own life too. A sob burst from her chest, and she closed her eyes, realization hitting her all at once. _I could have been lost._

"You're back now." Onmund whispered, readjusting his grip as Alea buried her face into the center of his chest and cried. "It's ok, love. You're back now. You're back and everything's ok."

He was right of course, and the fit slowly subsided as she allowed herself to be soothed, Onmund's presence better than any roaring fire or bowl of stew. She was home, safe in the arms of her husband. The World-eater was vanquished, and everything had been set right. Warmth and sleepiness stole over her again, and by the time her husband gently laid back down and drew the thick covers over their bodies, she was barely conscious. _Everything will be ok._ She thought.

_I have returned._


End file.
